Murder A La Carte

by Nancy Skopin

  “Hey, man! It’s occupied!”

  Nina stepped into the shower stall and drew the curtain closed behind her.

  Crafford said, “Look, buddy, I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.” Then he took a closer look and said, “What the fuck?”

  Nina grabbed him by the windpipe, cutting off his air and immobilizing him. She flicked open the switchblade and jammed it upward through his solar plexus into his heart, all the while staring into his startled brown eyes. It was over so quickly that Crafford was dead before he thought to resist.

  Nina rinsed her hands and the knife in the shower before retracting the blade and slipping it back into her pocket. She checked her clothes for blood, but what little there was didn’t show on the black sweats she was wearing. She checked to see if she was alone, then exited the stall, quickly pulling the curtain closed behind her. On her way out of the locker room she grabbed a gym towel and pulled it over her head and shoulders to further disguise herself.

  Her pulse sped up as she hit the street, walking slowly and occasionally glancing over her shoulder. No one was following. She’d gotten away clean once again.

  Chapter 15

  J.V. and I drove from Burlingame, where we’d left Scott, back to my office at the marina. I immediately went online and found the San Mateo County Children and Family Services website. I selected the adoption link and made a note of the phone number, then passed J.V. the number and the phone.

  “You want some privacy?”

  “Nah. I might need moral support.”

  I didn’t expect anyone at the county offices to be working on the weekend, but I listened as J.V. persuaded the operator who had answered his call to transfer him to Scott’s caseworker. He answered questions and asked them, taking notes for maybe fifteen minutes, then he put his hand over the mouthpiece and said, “What’s your fax number?”

  I told him the number and he repeated it into the phone, said thank you, and hung up.

  “They’re faxing me the forms,” he said, smiling broadly. “They’ve already made a determination about Scott’s aunt, and since I’m a relative they’re going hustle me through the adoption process.”

  “You’re excited about this, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I am. I’m also scared to death, but you were right. He’s a great kid.”

  “You’ll be lucky to have each other, J.V.”

  It would have been an awkward moment if the fax hadn’t started ringing.

  I called Bill to let him know I’d be tied up a while longer.

  J.V. and I spent an hour filling out forms. When we were finished I made copies of everything and we drove to the County Center where Scott’s caseworker had agreed to meet us. By the time we left we were both exhausted. I let Buddy out of the car for a quick walk around and offered him some bottled water before we hit the road again.

  I dropped J.V. at Bill’s house and reminded him we were doing a dinner and two bar surveys that night. “You still up for it?” I asked.

  “Sure. Just call me before you come to pick me up. I think I might take a nap.”

  I didn’t blame him. I could use one myself.

  Buddy and I motored back to the marina. I felt guilty for leaving him alone in the car for so long, so we walked around the grounds watering shrubbery before going down to the boat.

  When we climbed aboard I heard the TV and knew Bill was there. Buddy launched himself down the companionway and scrambled over the hardwood floor into the main salon. I tossed my purse on the galley counter, filled Buddy’s kibble dish, and got myself a Guinness before following. Quarter Pounders and beer—I definitely needed more time at the gym.

  Buddy had climbed into Bill’s lap, ignoring the offered kibble, and Bill was stroking his ears, submitting to puppy kisses, and laughing. The sight of the two males in my life so clearly attached to each other touched my heart. I could never spend time with a man who doesn’t love animals as much as I do.

  Two months ago, when Bill suggested we cohabitate, his relationship control issues had hit the surface. Even though I’d declined his offer, he’d apparently felt we were “committed,” and his demeanor toward me had shifted. I’d never met Bill’s parents, but if I had to guess, I’d say his father was dominant in their marriage. Bill had never been married, or even engaged as far as I knew, so he hadn’t recognized the pattern. We’d had a minor blow-up about it, but things had finally returned to normal. We would need to have a serious conversation at some point in the future, but for now, as long as I kept him at arm’s length, we were good. That wasn’t usually a problem for me, but watching him with Buddy made me wonder where we were headed.

  “How’d it go with J.V. and Scott?” he asked.

  “Great. J.V. filed the adoption papers today.”

  “On a Saturday? That was fast.”

  I swallowed some Guinness. “When it’s right, it’s right.”

  Bill looked at me. “Are you working tonight?”

  “I have three surveys to do. J.V.’s coming with me. You wanna come too?”

  “Someone should stay here with the dog.”

  I finished my Guinness and said, “I need a nap.” I gave Bill a lingering kiss filled with promises about what would come later, and headed for the stateroom. I set the Dream Machine alarm for 6:45.

  When the alarm went off I rolled out of bed and loaded the coffee maker. I showered and dressed before calling J.V.

  “Trusty and Associates,” he answered.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Come and get me.”

  That night we dined on authentic Spanish cuisine and observed waiters, waitresses, and bartenders. I caught one “no sale,” which meant the bartender hadn’t recorded the drink order on the register and would pocket the cash. J.V. spotted a busboy wiping his nose with his hand before refilling a customer’s water glass. Gross.

  Over dinner we talked about J.V.’s life experiences, and about mine. He expressed genuine sympathy when I told him about my dad’s disappearance and that my mom was a former nun. We talked about the pros and cons of the PI business and, once again, he offered me a position with his firm if I ever decided to move north.

  At the end of the evening I had a good feeling about Scott’s future. J.V. was a kind-hearted, intelligent realist, and I felt confident he could undo a lot of the damage that had been done to Scott in the last nine years.

  When I dropped him off at Bill’s house I leaned in for a hug and he gave me a tight squeeze. I didn’t plan to work on Sunday, so I said I’d call him in the morning and we’d go see Scott again. J.V. wanted to tell him the adoption paperwork had been filed, and it would be good for them to have more time together.

  I got home around 11:30 and found a note on the galley counter. Bill had been called to a crime scene and he’d taken Buddy along. I dialed his cell and asked where he was.

  “Powerhouse Gym on Broadway,” he said.

  “Is Buddy in your car?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who died?”

  “You’re not gonna like it.”

  I felt my stomach clench. “Tell me.”

  “The victim is Joshua Crafford, a registered sex offender.”

  “Knife wound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Garlic?”

  “Yup.”

  “Shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Why don’t I come and get Buddy out of your car. You’ll be there a while, right?”

  “Actually the body was discovered this morning. They called me after they did the autopsy. I wanted to look at the crime scene while it’s still relatively fresh. I’ll be home in half an hour. Buddy’s fine.”

  I sat at the galley counter thinking about my list of potential victims. Craffor
d wasn’t on my list, so either he wasn’t registered in Redwood City or he didn’t have convictions for habitual sexual abuse of children.

  I didn’t feel the same sense of urgency working this case as I had with other murder investigations. I felt no compassion for the victims, other than Gloria, and my client was in no danger from the killer. I looked at my watch and decided it wasn’t too late to call Elizabeth. Since her trawler door had been closed all day, I dialed Jack’s home number. He answered after two rings.

  “Good evening, Nikki.”

  Of course Jack has caller ID.

  “Hey, Jack. I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I kind of need to talk to Elizabeth. Is she awake?”

  “She’s right here. Hold on.”

  I heard the phone being handed off.

  “Hi, sweetie! I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. Have you got a few minutes? I need a sounding board.”

  “Of course,” she said to me. “I’ll take this downstairs,” she said to Jack.

  After a minute she was back on the line and I heard Jack set the receiver in the cradle, I assumed, in his bedroom.

  “What’s up, honey?”

  “I have a problem with that case I told you about.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  I told her how I was feeling about the killer I was hunting for Scott. That I was ambivalent about tracking down someone who might be doing the world a favor, and how that ambivalence made me feel guilty.

  When I was finished, she said, “Wow. So, what do you plan to do if you catch this person?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what’s bothering me. Normally it isn’t even a question.”

  “Yeah, but this is different. Of course, whoever is killing all these people is disturbed. They need help, but probably not the kind of help they’d get in prison.”

  We talked for forty minutes and although nothing was resolved, at the end of the conversation I felt better knowing someone understood how I felt.

  Bill and Buddy walked in as I was hanging up the phone.

  “Elizabeth says hi,” I said.

  “How is Elizabeth?”

  “She misses me.”

  He smiled knowingly.

  We talked about the case until almost 1:00, and then went to bed. I slept fitfully, interrupted by dreams I couldn’t remember when I woke up, but that left me worried about the decisions I’d have to make if I was able to catch Gloria’s killer.

  Chapter 16

  On Sunday morning I drank an entire pot of coffee before going to the gym. My metabolism has slowed since I quit smoking. I’m having trouble waking up in the morning, and I’m eating more comfort food in an effort to suppress all the feelings I’m not used to dealing with. I’m also bitchier than usual.

  I warmed up on the treadmill then hit the StairMaster, took an aerobics class, and finally did sit-ups, pushups, and used the free weights. By the time I was finished the endorphins had overcome the lack of sleep and I felt pretty good. I took a shower and talked with my friends in the locker room as I dried my hair and put on make-up.

  I was at the office by 9:00. I called Bill and asked him to bring Buddy up from the boat, then I called J.V. Trusty.

  “How’d you sleep?” I asked.

  “Kind of twitchy.”

  “Adoption nerves?”

  “Yeah. How about you?”

  “I didn’t sleep much. I couldn’t stop thinking.”

  “I’m not surprised. What are we doing today?”

  “Whatever you want. Oh, by the way, another sex registrant was killed yesterday. I didn’t find out until I got home last night.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said. “How many have there been?”

  “Five, if you count Scott’s mom.”

  “When was the first one?”

  “October.”

  “Could be more than one killer working together.”

  “It’s possible, but teams of multiple murderers are rare. Someone capable of this type of crime usually requires isolation.”

  “There have been exceptions. Remember the Chicago Rippers? Chris Worrell and James Miller, Leopold and Loeb. And what about the Menendez brothers? That might be what you’re looking for. A pair of siblings who were sexually abused as children.”

  I didn’t want there to be more than one killer. One was already more than I could deal with.

  “Maybe,” I hedged. “How about I borrow you a car and we spend the morning staking out potential victims, then go see Scott this afternoon.”

  “That works for me.”

  I called the Brewsters and spoke with Ilene before asking to speak with Scott. She was excited about the adoption and said we could come by and pick him up anytime. While I was waiting for Scott to come to the line I decided not to tell him what J.V. and I were doing that morning.

  “Hi, Nikki.”

  “Hey. You want to get together this afternoon? Buddy and J.V. would like to spend some time with you.”

  “Sure. When?”

  “Around two? If I eat any more Quarter Pounders I won’t fit into my jeans.”

  “Okay.” He sounded disappointed.

  “Of course, you can have all the Quarter Pounders you want. Don’t fill up at lunch and we’ll stop at McDonald’s after we pick you up. How does that sound?”

  “Great!”

  I hung up with a smile on my face.

  I called Elizabeth and talked her, and then Jack, into joining the stakeout. There were five potential victims on my list. This morning we would have four of them covered.

  Bill walked into the office with Buddy, read the expression on my face and said, “What?”

  “I need a favor,” I began. “J.V. needs to borrow your car this morning.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  Bill drives a fire engine red, classic Mustang. It’s totally cherry and no one else is allowed to drive it.

  “Okay, you can lend me the Mustang and I’ll give J.V. the BMW.”

  “Not on your life.”

  “Hey! I’m a good driver. I haven’t gotten so much as a parking ticket in the last five years.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Bill, J.V. needs a car. He’s helping me with surveillance. Be reasonable.”

  “I’m not working today. I’ll come with you.”

  This was Bill’s idea of a compromise.

  “Fine. Elizabeth and Jack will be here in ten minutes. I’ll give them their subject files and then we’ll go get Jack.”

  I looked through my stack of sex registrants and put them in sequence with the worst offender on the top, then I grabbed two bottles of spring water from the office fridge and stuffed them into my purse. Buddy gets thirsty during stakeouts.

  Jack and Elizabeth arrived at 9:25. Jack is about five-ten, compact, and muscular. He’s an Irishman with red hair sun-streaked with gold and green cat’s eyes. His accent is only really obvious when he’s annoyed.

  I handed them printouts on the subjects they would be watching. I gave Pablo Morales to Jack and Timothy Vasey to Elizabeth. They silently read about the crimes committed by their subjects, looked at each other, and then looked at me.

  “All you have to do is sit in your car, and watch.” I looked at Elizabeth as I said this, wanting to be sure she heard me. “Even if you see someone suspicious approaching the subject, don’t do anything. If one of them is attacked you can call nine-one-one and give a detailed description of the assailant, but do not approach them.”

  “Nikki,” Elizabeth said, “I have done surveillance for you before.”

  “This killer is unpredictable.”

  “All killers are unpredictable. I’ll be fine.”

  I hu
gged her close and said, “Be careful,” into her hair.

  “I will, sweetie. Come have dinner with us at Jack’s house tonight. Ilsa will make something wonderful.”

  Ilsa Richter is Jack’s cook and housekeeper, and her husband Joachim tends to the grounds.

  I glanced at Bill and he nodded. “Great,” I said. “Can we bring J.V.?”

  “Absolutely. We’d like to meet him. In fact, why don’t you bring Scott too?”

  “Scott has school tomorrow.”

  We locked up the office and hustled out to the parking lot. Buddy jumped into the Bimmer and whined when Bill got into his own car instead of riding with us. We motored up to Madison Avenue, where J.V. was waiting on Bill’s front porch.

  “I told Scott we’d be there at two,” I said, “so that gives us four hours.” I handed him the report on Gabriel Adamson.

  J.V. studied the photo, and when he read the list of crimes sparks shot out of his eyes. “Cocksucker,” he hissed. He glanced at me. “Sorry, Nikki.”

  I tried not to laugh. J.V. had such a cherubic face that it was hard to remember he was a tough-as-nails PI.

  I removed my car key from the ring and handed it to him. “Keep your cell phone set on vibrate.”

  “Will do.”

  “You can follow us to Adamson’s,” I said. “We’ll leave you there and head over to Tooker’s hotel. Buddy’s riding with you.” I handed him a bottle of water. “If he gets thirsty, hook him to his leash and get him out of the car, pull the sports-top open on the bottle, turn it upside down, and squeeze gently. He’s used to drinking from these.”

  “Good dog,” said J.V., then to Bill, “Nice Mustang.”

  Bill beamed proudly and rested a hand on the hood of his car. “Thanks.”